He aroused himself in the chair, saying, ‘No, Trotter, I wouldn’t like that. I can’t abide people fussing around me and moving my’ – he paused – ‘things.’
Seeing that the main things in the room were books, and that these were scattered everywhere, she could imagine his reaction if anyone were to attempt to tidy him up; but she was genuinely concerned for him, and so for the next half-hour she brought in a stack of wood and coal, she emptied slops, she filled cans with fresh water from the well, and when she had finished she washed her hands in the tin dish standing on a small table at the end of the room, and as she dried them she looked towards the window and said, ‘It looks as if it could rain and the twilight’s setting in, so I’ll have to be off, but you’ll promise me, won’t you’ – she went up the room and stood in front of him – ‘that you’ll eat everything that is in that cupboard?’ She pointed towards the old press from which she’d had to take books to make way for the food. ‘And if I can’t get over tomorrow I’ll be here the next day.’
Mr Burgess didn’t speak, but he held out his hand to her, and when she took it he said quietly, ‘You bring happiness to so many people, Trotter.’
Her face had no answering softness in it when she replied, ‘And trouble an’ all, it would seem, Mr Burgess.’
‘Don’t you worry about the trouble, my dear; people bring trouble on themselves, it’s their thinking that creates the trouble. You go on as you are and one day you’ll come into your own. Yes, you will.’ He moved his head slowly up and down. ‘I have a strong premonition about many things and I’ve always had one about you, one day you’ll come into your own.’
His words, said with such deep sincerity, brought a lump to her throat and she turned from him and, getting into her coat, she buttoned it up to the neck, then put on her hat which was the same straw one that she had worn for years. Finally, picking up the basket, she said, ‘Now take care, won’t you?’ and he answered, ‘Yes, my dear, I’ll take care. And thank the master for me and tell him I’ll soon be on duty again.’
‘He’ll be glad to hear that, he misses you.’
‘And I him. Yes, I him. I find him a very interesting man.’
They stared at each other for a moment longer; then again she said, ‘Goodbye, Mr Burgess,’ and he answered, ‘Goodbye, my dear,’ and she went out.
The air had turned even colder and it caught at her breath, and the twilight, threatening to be short tonight, made her hurry her step.
Mr Burgess’ cottage was situated up a narrow lane at the end of which were two roads, one that would eventually take you into Shields, the other into Jarrow. Along one side of the Shields road was a high bank which led on to common land. At the far side was some woodland running along the top of what was almost a small gorge. Once through the wood you came on the estate. She had come from the house by this route and she was returning the same way.
Inside the wood it was dim, even dark in parts, but this didn’t frighten her. No darkness frightened her now since she had experienced the total blackness of the mine; even night-time seemed light to her now.
She was emerging from the wood and was passing the last big tree close to the edge of the gorge when her heart seemed to leap into her throat and bring her breathing to choking point as a man stepped from the side of the tree and blocked her path. For a full minute neither of them moved, but they stared at each other; and as she looked into the face of Hal McGrath a scream tore up through her but found no escape past the constriction in her throat.
‘Aye, well, so here we are, eh?’
Her lips fell apart. She took a step to the side, and slowly he did the same.
‘Didn’t expect to see me the day, did you, Mistress Trotter, ’cos a mistress I hear you are now up at the big house? Done well for yourself, haven’t you?’
Still no words came.
‘Been easy in yer mind lately, haven’t you, since I was well outa the way? An’ things’ve been happenin’ up there, haven’t they? By! from what I hear they have that. You know what they’re sayin’ back in the village? They’re sayin’ that no ordinary lass could have brought about what you’ve brought about. Got rid of the whole caboodle you did, and put your own crew in, an’ now your sail’s full of wind you’re away . . . Well, haven’t you anythin’ to say to me after all this time? No, not a word?’
He pulled his head back from her now as if to survey her better, then went on, ‘You’ve changed, thickened out a bit. You needed that, but I don’t know whether I’m gona like the woman better than the lass. Anyway, we’ll see, eh?’ . . . On these last words his hands came out like the snapping wires of a hawser and when they gripped her arms she found her voice and she screamed at him, ‘You leave go of me, Hal McGrath. It’s no girl you’re dealin’ with now. Leave go of me!’ Being unable to use her arms she used her feet; but her skirt impeded the blows and only caused him to laugh. Then he swung her round as if she had been a paper bag and, pulling her clear of the dim wood, he thrust her against the bole of the tree, and holding her there, he growled, ‘That’s better. I can see what I’m doin’ here, eh? I can see what I’m doin’.’
When she again used her feet he leaned his body at an angle towards her. Then his jovial manner changing and his face close to hers, he hissed at her through his clenched teeth, ‘God Almighty! but I’ve dreamed of this night after night, day after day. Me belly wrenched with sickness, me arms nearly torn out of their sockets, sea-boots in me arse, I still dreamed of this minute, and now it’s come an’ I’m going to have me payment, an’ there’s nobody on God’s earth gona stop me. Do you hear that, Tilly Trotter?’ He brought her shoulders from the tree now and with a quick jerk banged her head back against it. Then as she gasped and cried out, he said, ‘That’s only the beginning ’cos I’ve never known a minute’s luck or peace since me thoughts settled on you. I thought it was the money at first, but it wasn’t, that was only part.’ Now to her horror he gripped her throat with one hand and like an iron band he held it to the tree, and as her hands tore at his face and her feet kicked at his shins he did not seem to notice. With his other hand he ripped her coat from her back, with one twisting pull he tore the front of it open and the buttons flew like bullets from the cloth; and now his hand was on the bodice of her print dress, and when the cotton was rent his fist was inside her body shirt tearing it from her bare flesh.
It was when his fingers dug into her breast that the scream tore through her body but found no escape; and then gathering her last remaining strength she did what she had done once before, she brought up her knee with as much viciousness as she was able to his groin. Instantly his grip sprang from her throat and he was standing away from her bent forward, his two hands clutching at the bottom of his belly.
Filled with terror as she was, she hadn’t the strength to run for a moment, and in the gasping pause she took in the fact that he was standing on the very edge of the steep bank. She also knew that in another moment or two he would recover and then God help her, for if she did run he would catch her. How she forced herself to put her hands on him she never knew but she ran at him and the impetus nearly took her over the side at the same time as it toppled him backwards, his arms now wide and the curses flowing from his mouth, and in the instant she turned to run she heard him scream. It was a high, thin scream, not like something that would come from his throat at all. She remained still, turned about again and looked down. His body was at a strange angle. He was on his back, he had fallen among an outcrop of rock and his middle seemed heaved up. For a moment she saw him in a position similar to that in which the master had lain. When he made no movement she put her hand to her mouth and whimpered, ‘Oh no! God, don’t say that.’
The next minute, holding her tattered clothes about her, she scrambled down the steep bank; then her approach to him slow, her step cautious in case the whole thing were a trick, she paused within an arm’s length of him. His eyes were closed. Then slowly they opened and he groaned. When she saw him try to move sh
e turned quickly away, but his voice stopped her as he growled, ‘Me back. I’m stuck. Give me a hand.’
When she shook her head he closed his eyes again; and now his words slower and with what she detected might be panic in them, he muttered, ‘Then get somebody. Don’t leave me here, you bitch, with the night comin’ on. D’ya hear? D’ya hear?’
She knew his eyes were following her as she climbed the bank. Once on top she began to run.
It was almost dark when she reached the house. She had seen no-one at all.
Letting herself in through the still-room door, she came into the corridor, and there halted. There was the muted sound of laughter coming from the servants’ hall. It was around the time of the day they stopped to partake of a drink of beer or tea, and a bite.
On tiptoe now, she stumbled up the back stairway, and like an intruder she slunk through the green-baize door and across the gallery. And it was as she made her way past Mark’s bedroom to go to her own room that his voice came loudly from the room, saying, ‘Out there, is that you, Trotter?’ Then louder, ‘Trotter!’
She now leaned against the wall to the side of the door, and when his voice came again, demanding, ‘Who is it out there?’ she knew there was nothing for it but she must put in an appearance or else he would undoubtedly ring the bell to the kitchen.
When she opened the door and moved slowly into the room he drew himself up on the chair, exclaiming, ‘God above! What . . . what has happened to you?’
‘Hal McGrath. He was waiting for me outside the wood.’
‘Good God! look at you. What has he done? Come . . . come here. Sit down. Sit down!’
His hand going out now and gripping her wrist, he muttered, ‘What happened?’ then added, ‘Never mind. First of all, go and take a glass of brandy.’ And when she shook her head he commanded, ‘Go along, girl! It will stop that trembling.’
In the dressing room a minute later, after pouring herself out a small amount of the brandy she sipped on it, choked and started to cough; and it was some time before she could control it and go back into the bedroom.
His impatience showing in his voice now, he said, ‘Well! Come, tell me.’ And she told him all there was to tell, but when she finished, ‘He’s . . . he’s hurt his back, he . . . he can’t move. Somebody will have to be told,’ he interrupted quickly, saying, ‘Somebody will have to be told? Have some sense, girl. The best thing that can happen is that he be left there and let’s hope the night will finish him off because that man is a danger to you. Go now and change your things. And listen. Don’t mention this to anybody, not a soul. Do you hear? . . . Did anyone see you come in in this state?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Good. Now look; go into my closet and clean up as much as you can because if any of the staff see you in that predicament they might blame me. What’s more, never try to tiptoe past my door, my ear has become attuned to your step, even on the carpets.’ His voice had now taken on a light note, doubtless to cheer her, but she couldn’t move her face into a smile . . .
Having washed, she put on an overall she kept to cover her uniform when cleaning the closet out. She took this precaution just in case she should see someone when making the short distance between this and her own room. And again she was fortunate. So, as no-one but the master knew what had happened to her, why should she be worrying now in case Hal McGrath should die out there. She wanted him dead, didn’t she? Yes, oh yes; but she didn’t want his death on her conscience. If only she could tell someone. Who? Biddy? But the master had warned her to keep silent . . . yet, oh dear God, she didn’t know what to do.
She got the answer when a tap came on the door and Katie came quietly into the room, saying, ‘Tilly, that lad’s come again, Steve. He wants to see you. He was here just after you left. You all right? You look peaky.’
‘I . . . I feel a bit bilious.’
‘Well, it must have been the duck ’cos my stomach felt a bit squeezy after me dinner. It takes some getting used to, rich food, after hard tack for years.’ She smiled broadly, then said in a whisper, ‘Are you comin’ down?’
Tilly nodded, adding, ‘I’ll be there in a minute tell him.’
‘Aye. Aye, all right, Tilly.’
A few minutes later she went down the corridor but not on tiptoe. In the kitchen she looked about her and Biddy, jerking her head towards the yard, said, ‘He wouldn’t come in, he just said he wanted to have a word with you.’
They exchanged glances and she went out.
The yard was lit by the candle lantern hanging from a bracket and its light seemed to have drained all the colour from Steve’s thin face and he began straightaway without his usual greeting of ‘Hello, Tilly.’
‘He’s back, our Hal,’ he said. ‘He came in last night. There he was this mornin’ when I came off me shift. I could have died. He knew I’d come and tell you, an’ he threatened to do me in. Me ma kept me in the house all mornin’. She took the ladder away from the attic so I couldn’t get down, and then when she did let me out he’d been gone for hours. I . . . I came as quick as I could, Tilly, I . . . ’
She put her hand on his arm and said, ‘I know, Steve. I’ve . . . I’ve met him.’
‘You what! And you’re still whole? Eeh! Tilly, the things he said he would do to you. And he was solid and sober when he said them, that made it worse. Eeh! Tilly’ – he shook his head – ‘what did he say? How did you get . . . ?’
She now pulled him away from the light of the lantern and into the darkness of the high wall that bordered the gardens, and her voice a whisper now, she told him briefly what had happened. After she finished he didn’t speak for some time; then he said, ‘You think his back’s gone?’
‘Well, he couldn’t move, Steve. And . . . and he might die, and I don’t want him on me conscience.’
‘You’re daft, Tilly, you’re daft. You don’t know what you’re sayin’. I’ll tell you somethin’ and it’s the truth. It’s either you or him. He’s not right in the head, not where you’re concerned he’s not; an’ he never will be as long as he breathes. He’ll do for you either way. If in some way he were to marry you he’d still do for you, he’d beat the daylights out of you. You’ve got into him somehow. I don’t understand it, I only know that you come atween him an’ his wits, so the best thing to do is . . . is leave him there.’
‘No, no, Steve. Neither of us could stand it if we left him there to die. I hope he dies, but . . . but not that way, not without something being done, so go and see if he’s managed to get up. If not, well, you know what to do, tell your da, and they’ll come and fetch him.’
When he shook his head slowly she said, ‘Please, Steve, please, for my sake.’
‘I won’t be doing it for your sake, Tilly, don’t you see – it’s like signing your death warrant, an’ me own an’ all, for he’ll cripple me altogether one of these days. He’s not going back to sea an’ he’ll hound you, you won’t know a minute’s peace. Aw Christ! Why was he born?’ He became quiet for a moment, then said, ‘Go on in.’ He pushed at her roughly. ‘Go on in, you’re shiverin’. It’ll be all right. Go on in.’
‘You’ll go? Promise me you’ll go, Steve.’
‘Aye, all right, I’ll go.’
‘Thanks, Steve, thanks.’
He made no answer and she watched the dark blur of him turn away into the night.
Three
It was the following afternoon when the news reached the Manor, Sam brought it. He had been into Shields to the corn chandler’s. All the news of the town and the villages about sifted through the corn chandler’s and, like chaff wafted on the wind, it spread. Of course a dead man found in a gully wasn’t all that exciting, not for Shields anyway, sailors were always being found up alleyways bashed and stark naked. The waterfront had its own excitements where killings were concerned. But this fellow had just come off a boat in the Tyne the day before yesterday, and he had been found early on this morning lying in a gully, a knife through his ribs. The general opini
on was that the poor bugger would have been best off had he stayed at sea. But that was life.
Had he been in a fight? Nobody knew, only that he was lying on his face. It looked as if he had fallen down a steep bank and on to his own knife because his initials, they said, were on the handle of the knife.
But why would he have his knife out if he wasn’t fighting? Well, as far as could be gathered there was no sign on his body that he had been in a fight, black eyes or bruises, nothing like that, just a few scratches on his face where apparently the brambles had caught him.
Sam gave the news to Katie and Katie took it into her mother, and Biddy stared at her open-mouthed until Katie said, ‘What is it, Ma, are you sick?’ and Biddy answered, ‘No, it’s just come as a bit of surprise, that’s all, because he was the fellow who used to torment Tilly, an’ for him to die like that and near the grounds an’ all.’
‘Aye, he was, and she for one ’ll be pleased at the news. I’ll go and tell her.’
She met Tilly in the corridor, outside the master’s room.
Staring at Katie, Tilly opened her mouth twice before she could whisper, ‘Dead? He’s dead?’
‘Aye; as I said. Fell on his knife, so Sam says! Dead as a doornail, so you’ll have no more trouble from him. What’s the matter? Eeh! you’re not gona pass out, are you? Some folks do with relief – it’s like shock,’ she was speaking in a soft hiss.
‘I’ve . . . I’ve got to go and see to the . . . the master.’
‘Aye. Aye, Tilly, but I thought you’d like to know.’
‘Yes; thanks. Thanks, Katie, ta.’
Tilly turned away and went back into the room where Mark was waiting for her. His eyes narrowing, he looked at her as he said sharply, ‘Well, what is it? You’ve . . . you’ve had news?’
She went and stood by his side, and now she wrung her hands as she gabbled, ‘They’ve . . . they’ve found him, but believe me . . . believe me, sir, not as I left him. When I left him he was lying on his back over the outcrop. News has come that he was on his face with’ – she gulped in her throat and wetted her lips before she brought out in a thin whisper, ‘with a knife atween his ribs.’
Tilly Trotter (The Tilly Trotter Trilogy) Page 37